


The Queen's Request

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Open Marriage, Spinner!Rum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having witnessed a private moment between her handmaidens, Belle is unable to think of anything else. However, when her husband declines her request, she finds comfort in the unlikeliest of places.</p><p>- Nominated for Best Drama in the 2017 T.E.A's-<br/>- Nominated for Best Spinner!Rumple in the 2017 T.E.A's-</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Queen's Request

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the Prompt: After witnessing her handmaidens Ruby & Dorothy taking turns giving oral sex to one another, queen Belle becomes curious. The king refuses to do such a chore & decides to pick someone else that will give the queen what she wants. He hand picks a poor spinner who is in desperate need of money to feed his son. The king will offer gold coins to the spinner ONLY if he can succeed into pleasuring the queen & will offer more coins if the queen wishes for more of his company.

Tonight was different.

Outside, the moon was nearly full, and the summer night clear of clouds. The celestial sky shone down into the King of Avonlea’s private quarters, as the servants had left the windows open to let in the warm air. The firelight crackled and popped in the hearth, giving the numerous mounted heads on the wall an odd lifelike glow to their beady little eyes.

Belle shifted her eyes away from the large boar that appeared to be winking at her, choosing instead to focus her attention inward. With a shaky exhale, she reminded herself that she could do this, that she could be brave. After all, she was here to do her duty as a wife.

She spread her hands over the comforter, the embroidered gold threads slightly raised from the downy surface, as the memory of what she had seen that day returned unbidden. The room was already warm from the fire and the summer breeze while refreshing did not do much to cool her fevered skin.

Her heartbeat pulsed between her thighs, and for the first time since her wedding night, her sex was slick with anticipation instead of apprehension. She had been unable to think of anything but the memory of what she had seen in the stables the other day, unable to banish it from her mind. She had never known...had never dreamed such acts were possible or pleasurable.

Clutching her hand to her beating heart, she took a calm, deep breath. “You can do this,” she murmured to herself, ignoring the sweet sticky sweat collecting in the valley of her breasts. “Be brave, Belle.”

As if summoned, her husband chose that exact moment to swing open the door and stagger into the room. Belle nearly toppled off the bed in her surprise, but caught herself before she made a bigger fool of herself. Her husband unceremoniously tossed down his now empty tankard. It clanked and rattled across the stones of the hearth, a loud and harsh cacophony in the otherwise quiet evening.

Belle donned the polite smile she always wore for her husband. “Welcome home,” she greeted, her voice rasping slightly. She cleared her throat and tried again. “How fared the hunt?”

She need not have asked. She could tell he was already deep in his cups, a sure sign he had not been doing much hunting.

He stopped in his attempt to pull off his breeches. For a moment, he looked just like one of the many trophies on the wall. Black beady eyes and a dull vacant expression on the otherwise handsome and proud face. Belle knew the animals could not help it, they were dead after all. Her husband though…

“What are you doing here?” he grumbled, returning his attention to his pants. “Are you naked?”

This last bit was delivered with an incredulous disgust that only her husband could manage. Belle scooted a little closer to the foot of the bed. It did not matter if he did not find her desirable, she reminded herself. “The matter we discussed before you left on the hunt,” she reminded him gently. “You promised to think on it. Remember?”

Finally tugging his breeches off, he peeled them off his legs. The firelight illuminated the finely shaped legs, tracing over the tight stomach and firmly developed chest as he pulled his hunting shirt over his head. As he tossed the garment to the floor beside the fire, his arms flexed invitingly. It was a pretty picture, Belle knew. Many maids whispered about the King, all too blinded by his beauty to see the truth beneath it.

“Oh that,” he sighed. He stilled, reaching on large hand to scratch his chin. Belle had to resist the urge to groan. He only did that when he wanted to appear thoughtful or benevolent. She wasn’t sure which was going to be worse. “Actually, Belle, I did think about that for a bit today.”

Hope blossomed in her chest, a dangerous pastime. Gaston was not known for his kindness, but if there was anything he would agree to….surely this would be it?

“I’ve decided that the entire thing is unsanitary,” he declared, moving towards the bed to join her. “I don’t know where you got the idea but it’s not natural, Belle.”

Belle flushed. “I told you,” she said hurriedly. “I read about it.” It wouldn’t do for him to know the truth...that she had seen the very act being performed in broad daylight out in the lofts of the stables. It hadn’t looked unsanitary or unnatural, in fact...it had looked wonderful.

“You and those books,” he said fondly. Except it wasn’t fond, not really. It was condescending and embarrassing and the familiar flash of righteous anger flared to life in her chest. She bit down on her lip. It would do no good to argue with him in this state of drunken disappointment. “Getting all those ideas. It’s not right for a woman.”

“As Queen of Avonlea,” Belle started angrily but it was no use. He was already laughing.

“Now, now, don’t get all upset,” he said, patting her cheek. How the court would snicker at this picture, the King and Queen naked as their nameday, acting like children.

It was an open secret at court that the King had very little interest in his pretty wife. No, Gaston had always had a taste for a different type, and his hunting trips with the young men of the court were famous for lasting up to three days, with no game in sight.

It had been why she had agreed to marry him in the first place. Gaston for all his good looks and apparent charm had been the lesser of the evils she had been offered up to. The entire kingdom as her dowry had been incentive enough for him to have given up his sworn “bachelor” ways.

Their marriage bed was a far more well known farce than any traveling troupes. King Gaston would come to her fresh from the hands of his “valet”, LeFou, to bury himself into her with a single thrust. After rutting atop of her mindlessly, he would spill his seed inside of her and began to snore, leaving her to climb out from underneath him, royal seed spilling down her leg as she returned to her own chambers.

As soon as there was a heir, it would be done, her handmaidens assured her, wiping tears from her cheeks. As soon as he had a son, it would all be over and she would no longer bear the bruises from his fingers on her hips or the feel of shame burning in her breast.

Yet, her womb had not quickened and she had to return to him once a week in the hopes that this would be the last of it. She had sought advice from books and wise women, talked to traveling sorcerers and even had made a wish to the fairies, but nothing had worked.

At first, Gaston had at least been amenable to trying different things even though he seemed to find the whole project as distasteful as she did. His valet gave her enough dirty looks, as it was, believing she was somehow sabotaging the process. As if she wanted to be underneath Gaston, wincing in agony as he pierced her insides and left her sore and bleeding. No, LeFou was welcome to the pain of loving her husband.

Belle wrenched her face away from his touch. “I ask so little from you,” she said heatedly. “The least you could do is try.”

Gaston grabbed her arm, hoisting her clean off the bed. Belle cried out in surprise as he flung her towards the mantle, barely catching herself before he threw her robe at her as well. “I have tried,” he said viciously. “I’ve tried to find some pleasure in you, but you’re dried up, Belle. There’s no love in you, no passion. Just duty and honor and ideas of nonsense.”

Belle opened her mouth to argue, but tears choked her. For a moment, she wavered and then, her own stubbornness kicked in and she spun on her heel and fled through the door towards her rooms. She would not let him see his words had wounded her. The fire in the antechamber was smaller than the one in the King’s room. Her own room would be dark. She had ordered Ruby and Dorothy to leave the hearth empty, hoping that tonight she would at least finally be well rested enough to sleep after her husband’s ministrations.

Belle stumbled to a stop at the thought of her handmaidens. She hadn’t meant to see it. She hadn’t even known...but the soft, heady gasps had been so foreign...so unusual that she had just had to see what was causing them… Belle shook her head. It was pointless now. She should have known better, she reprimanded herself as she went to open the door to her room. Thinking that he would-

As the door to her room swung open, Belle found to her surprise the fire was lit. The room was warm and bright, the familiar comforts of her books piled where she had left them and...

There was a man by her bed.

Belle let out a scream, clutching her nightgown to her chest. She was still very much naked. “Intruder!” she yelled, hurrying towards the door. “Guards! Guards!”

“Wait! Wait, please, wait!”

Belle whirled around, grabbing hold of a nearby candelabra to level it at the head of the brute. Only to find, the wide scared eyes of a peasant. He was filthy. Matted hair in clumps hung around his pale pointed face. Underneath, dirt and scruff darkened the lined skin. His clothes were much too big for him, but of quality material. They held up under the many patches that had been expertly fixed, although they were as stained as the rest of him. Black tipped fingernails were held up in surrender as he quivered before her, shaking head to toe. Belle lowered the candelabra slightly, eyeing him uncertainty. “Who are you?” she demanded, feeling incredibly silly. “What are you doing in my rooms?”

“The King!” the intruder said quickly. He glanced back up at her from where his gaze had fallen to the floor. He was still shaking like a leaf. “He...he brought me here.”

Belle used her best authoritative tone, the one she usually saved for sneering diplomats or uppity emissaries, “Turn around.”

The man nodded fervently, and began to slowly spin to face the bed. He moved stiffly and leaned towards his right as if his left leg troubled him. His face pinched as he slowly rotated. When Belle was sure he was no longer facing her, she donned her nightgown, tying the sash close before she moved in a large circle around him. When she had reached her bed, she sat slowly. “Who are you?”

“Rumpelstiltskin, your Royal Highness,” he said miserably. “I’m a spinner from Far and Away.”

“The village up north?” Belle asked in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

His shoulders tightened and he looked hurriedly away from her. “The King, your Royal Highness,” he said again. “I’m here to serve you.”

“Serve me?” Belle repeated. “What on -” Realization kicked in as his eyes met hers. Belle felt her entire face go scarlet, and her eyes grew wide. The poor man looked equally uncomfortable, long fingers twitching nervously at his side. “How dare he,” Belle sputtered. Anger and shame raising her voice as she pointed a trembling finger at the figure before her. “You are to leave this instant!” she demanded, furious at Gaston for this nasty trick. “Be gone before morning or so help me-”

The man didn’t move a muscle. He squeezed his eyes closed, and Belle was astonished to see tears on his cheeks. Her anger abandoned her in an instant, and she was on her feet, his arm in her hand as she lowered him gently to the seat by the fireplace. “Shush, now,” she murmured, uncertain of what was happening. “I’m sorry, you just surprised me. I’m not angry with you,” she assured him.

Still, Rumpelstiltskin looked anywhere but at her, color rising in his cheeks. “I’m sorry, your Royal Highness,” he said miserably. “I did not intend to scare you.”

Belle smiled at him. “I think I scared you just as badly.”

His head lowered in embarrassment. “Aye,” he admitted shyly. “You did at that.”

Taking a closer look at the man, Belle saw he was obviously underfed. His clothes while worn and dirty were well cared for, hemmed and probably tailored nicely before he had lost so much weight. Times were tough in the lands, the ogre wars coming closer and closer to Avonlea. “Stay here,” Belle instructed him. “I’ll have the kitchens send something up.”

“No! I mean,” Rumpelstiltskin looked horrified at his own boldness. “Your Royal Highness, I meant no disrespect, it’s just-”

Belle returned back to his side, growing concerned. He darted a wild eyed look of terror towards the door from which she had come, and Belle suddenly knew exactly who had really scared the poor man. “My husband,” she said stiffly, “is indisposed for the evening. You have nothing to fear from him now or ever again.”

The man did not seem convinced, but he did stop shaking quite so hard. “The King is merciful,” he said softly.

“I don’t know about that,” Belle said with a sigh. “Please, let me get you something to eat.”

“I ate in the kitchens,” he told her. “Mistress Lucas was most kind...she ordered a bath but…”

“My husband forbade it?” Belle guessed. Her companion did not reply but the way he avoided her gaze was answer enough. “Rumpelstiltskin, did the King force you to come here?”

“N-no…”

“You can tell me the truth."

His eyes met hers for the first time since she had walked in the room. He had warm brown eyes, dark and deep, with eyelashes as long as a colt’s. He gazed at her in wonder, and she shifted uncomfortably, remembering she was naked beneath her fine silk. “You are as kind as the people say, my Queen,” he said reverently. “Here I am intruding upon you, daring to speak to you, to sit near you in my filth and odor, and you are concerned with if I’ve been mistreated.”

It was Belle’s turn to blush. “Nonsense,” she said. “A Queen takes care of her people, any would do the same.” He did not have the audacity to correct her, nodding slowly although it was clear he did not believe this. “I’ll call for a bath,” Belle decided. “That and a good night’s sleep and we’ll send you back to your village in the morning.”

Rumpelstiltskin made a noise of alarm, and reached out blindly. Belle stilled from where she had gone to ring for her handmaidens. His hand lay gently upon her forearm. She traced the delicate hand back to the thin wrists and wiry forearms, coming to the slumped shoulders and the pointed chin before her eyes met the stunned Rumpelstiltskin's.

His hand flew off her and he dropped to his knees before her. “Your Royal Highness,” he gasped, tears choking his voice. “I’m sorry! I didn’t meant to touch you! I- I-”

“Shush,” Belle whispered, dropping down on her knees beside him. He had gone white as a sheet, and Belle pushed the hair out of his eyes, tilting his chin to look into her face. “It’s alright,” she assured him. She tucked the hair behind his ears, whispering softly as her thumbs brushed away the tears on his cheeks. “I swear no harm will come to you. You can trust me, Rumpelstiltskin.”

His shoulders shook as a sob overtook him. Belle was flabbergasted. Here she was counseling a peasant in her private rooms, nude save her robe. Gaston was often crude in his jokes, but this particular kind of cruelty seemed unlike him. Rumpelstiltskin swallowed roughly, lip trembling as his eyes slowly met her own. “My Queen,” he whispered. “Please don't send me away.”

“I’m not sure what my husband told you,” Belle said uncertainly, “but I’ve no need of your services, good sir.”

A shaky hand reached out to clasp her own, and Belle’s breath grew suddenly ragged as the poor man pressed a delicate kiss onto the back of it. She was not scared of this creature, but she was powerless to snatch it back. They knelt there on the floor in a strange tableau.

“King Gaston came to my village on the hunt,” Rumpelstiltskin said, lowering her hand to his heart. Belle could feel his heartbeat thumping wildly as he spoke. She tried her best to pay attention, but his thumb made small circles in her palm, a soothing gesture that she was not sure he even knew he was doing. “My….my son was chosen to….entertain the King and his men.” His voice cracked. “My son is the only thing i have in this world, your Royal Highness,” he said earnestly. “I begged the King to reconsider, that my boy was too young but he simply laughed.” Belle’s stomach twisted violently, and her own fingers tightened over his. “But...I told him I’d do anything, anything at all and then one of his men...whispered something to him and he….he offered me a deal.”

“Oh, Rumpelstiltskin,” Belle murmured, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. Your son...is he…?”

The poor man smiled at her. His teeth were slightly yellow, but charmingly crooked. His lips were thin but even when he smiled they were full and pink. Belle found herself staring at his mouth and wrenched her gaze back to his sad eyes. “My boy…Bae...was spared. King Gaston was generous too,” he told her hurriedly. “If I pleasure your majesty, if I satisfy your desires… I am to receive a gold coin for my services.”

“And if you don’t?” 

Rumpelstiltskin smiled weakly. “I am to be sent away at dawn to starve on the roads home.”

“I won’t allow that,” Belle promised him, squeezing his hand tightly. “Do you hear me? I won’t! I’ll make sure you have food, and a carriage-”

He shook his head, matted hair falling back into his face. “Then, his men in my village will take my boy away from me. I can’t let that happen, my Queen, I can’t….”

Belle bent her own head, too consumed with emotion to find her tongue. 

“My Queen?” Rumpelstiltskin said softly. He lowered their joined hand to where their knees were touching, but did not let go. “Please don’t be embarrassed.”

Belle jerked her head up, nearly hitting his already twice broken nose. “I’m not,” she said fiercely. “I’m enraged at that-that monster I’ve married! How dare he!” she continued. “To try and take a poor boy against his will, enslave his father as a cruel joke and threaten them both with death!”

Rumpelstiltskin threw a look over his shoulder at the King's door. “My Queen,” Rumpelstiltskin said in a hushed tone. “You mustn’t think that. You mustn’t worry about us.” Belle’s anger, mercurial since she had been a child, ebbed at the frantic fear on the poor man’s features. “Please...let me do this for you.”

Belle blinked rapidly. “He...he told you?”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, his fingers still intertwined with her’s as if to reassure her. “I’ve heard tell of it before,” he admitted, coughing slightly. “May I ask how you learned about it… My Queen?”

Belle swallowed, hard. She twisted her hand away as she stood abruptly. “It’s not your concern,” she said roughly. “My husband has managed to embarrass us both enough as it is. I’ll call for a bath for you, let my handmaidens see me with you and in the morning, I’ll tell my husband the deed was done.”

Rumpelstiltskin made a noise of distress as he tried to get to his feet. He pitched forward, and Belle only managed to get there in time to catch him from hurting himself. He groaned, his hands clasping for his left leg as she helped him get his balance. He was sweating from the fire, and when Belle released him, her fingertips were grimy and her silk nightgown had streaks of dirt down it.

“My apologies,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “I’ve ruined your gown.”

“No,” Belle told him, although it was true. This gown was much too delicate to wash seeing how it was-

“It’s fairy woven from the finest silk of the southlands,” Rumpelstiltskin said, surprising her once again. “It will fray if your servants try to scrub the dirt out by hand.” At Belle’s incredulous look, he looked bashful. “I’m a spinner, my Queen,” he said softly. “By trade.”

“Then, you shall have to replace it,” she said with a wink. He smiled faintly and Belle smiled back. “You sit still while I call for the bath,” she said and refusing to listen to another word, she turned to summon the two who had started all this nonsense in the first place.

In no time at all, there was a hot bath steaming before the fireplace, a very embarrassed spinner firmly ensconced in it as Ruby and Dorothy clucked over him. The water was a dirty brown already, and still the dirt clumped off the poor man as Ruby scrubbed. Dorothy had already dunked him under water, washed his hair and then dunked him again to get the suds out. Poor Rumpelstiltskin had come up sputtering each time, fingers white knuckled from his grip on the sides of the tub.

He cowered away from Ruby’s sponges and winced every time Dorothy's comb raked through his hair, but in the interim, his eyes found Belle and she smiled back at him encouragingly. Both her handmaidens watched this exchanged, puzzled by did not say a word about the oddness of it all. As Belle watched the three of them, her traitorous mind wandered back to the day in the stables and Belle, too tired to stop herself, let herself dwell upon it.

_Desiring a ride before supper, Belle went to the stables. There was a siring in the fields, a spring tradition and Belle knew the usual staff would be out in the padlock making sure no harm came to their prize stallion or the mares. A perfect opportunity to take one of the geldings on a quick jaunt on her own, a rarity these days._

_As she snuck inside the barn, the usual soft neighs and snickers of the horses were present but another sound floated down from the lofts…_

_It sounded like someone struggling to breath, soft heady moans and shaky exhales and Belle stopped in her moves toward the saddles. A sharper noise, like someone sucking meat off a bone, echoed down and this time a desperate, heady groan followed shortly behind._ _Instinctively, Belle moved toward the noise, ready to call out to see if someone was in trouble when she saw them._

_Framed in the light coming in from the barn door, Ruby stood in the lofts above, arms raised overhead to cling to the barn-beam. Her gown was pulled open, revealing soft white breasts, her skirts was hiked around her hips, held in place by Dorothy who knelt between her legs, her mouth working greedily over Ruby’s sex._

_Belle stopped, eyes wide as the women she had known since childhood were stripped bare before her. Ruby let out another needy groan, as Dorothy’s hand came up to fondle the taller girl’s breasts, pushing up on her knees to lick harder._ _Ruby let out a guttural moan but held herself, even though Belle could see her legs trembling with the effort to stay upright. Dorothy pulled her mouth away, kissing the insides of Ruby’s thighs as she murmured wordless sounds of encouragement._

_Belle ducked into a nearby empty stall, listening as the noises intensified. Her heart thundered in her chest, her eyes wide as she listened to her most trusted servants pleasure each other so wantonly._

_Another desperate moan drew her attention, and despite herself, Belle peeked back out to see the two a top of each other. Dorothy in between Ruby’s thighs, causing the other girl to thrash, tossing her head back and forth, her hair dangling over the rafters._ _The noises grew louder, more intense, Ruby’s moans echoing in Belle’s ears as her heartbeat dropped to her own sex, desperate for attention as the unfamiliar sensations of desire began to pool inside her._

_Belle’s breath was shaky, and when she was quite certain the two were lost in each others, their answering moans and cries of passion loud enough that Belle was certain the castle itself could hear them, she hurried out of the barn before they realized she had been there._

No matter what Belle did...she had been unable to get the memory of their cries and moans from her mind, or the way they had appeared in her room an hour later, both glowing and smiling and now that she knew what to look for, properly satisfied.

As Queen, Belle could demand them to pleasure her.... they might even be happy to provide her the kind of bliss that they seemed to find in between each other’s legs but she had been unable to bring herself to do it. The beauty of them, pale skinned and rose tipped breasts and dark haired sexes pressed to pink lips...it was enticing but Belle wanted more than that.

“There,” Dorothy announced, standing in triumph. “He’s free of lice, tangles and filth.”

Belle hurried to straighten upright, blushing as the two of them looked to her for approval. Ruby stood too, admiring the pink skin she had discovered. “Nails are trimmed, skin is clean and his smell is good as gone.”

“Thank you,” Belle told them graciously. “You may leave the tub till morning.”

With a nod and murmurs of good eve, the two disappeared out the door. Belle handed Rumpelstiltskin a towel, but he sat there awkwardly. "My...uh leg..." he said with a flush of red in his already pink cheeks. Belle, flushing to match, held out a hand to help him out of the tub. He clambered awkwardly out as Belle looked politely away.

He looked the same, Belle thought, sneaking a peek as he wrapped the towel around his hips. His frame was malnourished, bones poking out from the waxy skin but he glowed from the bath, the firelight dancing along his shoulder blades and making his wet hair glow silver.

Belle licked her suddenly dry lips. They had brought a spare change of clothes from the butler’s eldest son, a fast growing boy who had already outgrown this year’s clothes. “Here,” Belle murmured, moving to collect them. “They’re not new, but they’re clean.”

“Thank you, my Queen,” Rumpelstiltskin said quietly from behind her.

“Belle,” she said softly, fingers tightening on the shirt she was clutching to her stomach. “You can call me Belle.”

“Belle.”

She half turned to find he had come up behind her. He started to move away but Belle lay a hand on his forearm, stilling him. Her eyes wandered down, and while her cheeks blushed at her forwardness, the spinner did not move away from her. His chest was smooth, so unlike Gaston’s. In the glow of the candles, his skin gleamed golden as a statue. Belle let her hand move slowly up his arm, until it landed upon his shoulder. His brown eyes were on her face, but she let her eyes drop to his waist. His manhood was stiff between them, straining towards her.

The rhythmic pulsing in her stomach increased in tempo as she looked her fill. He was not as thick as her husband, but longer. Her mouth dropped open slightly as she thought about the feel of it in her hand, and it jerked slightly upwards as if it had heard her thoughts. Belle’s eyes returned to see the spinner blushing madly, but standing determinedly in front of her. “My Queen,” he said, his voice half strangled. “Anything you ask of me...I would do and more.”

Belle’s own sex twitched at his tone, at this promise and her eyes moved to the door that led to her husband’s chambers. “I don’t…” she started, eyes closing in confusion. “I don’t want to use you like that.”

The soft pressure of his fingers against her jaw startled her, eyes flying open to find he was gingerly waiting for her to allow him to touch her in return. She nodded shyly, leaning her cheek into his palm as he cupped her face with his left hand. “Belle,” he whispered, not taking a step closer to her, but leaning in slightly. “It would be a privilege and an honor to serve you, my queen.”

Belle shivered. She could not help it. With a shaky inhale, she nodded. The spinner smiled back at her. Before her bravery could desert her, Belle moved towards the bed. As she walked, jerky steps as her head filled with worries and apprehensions about the rightness of it all, she let her gown fall away from her body. The answering appreciative groan from her companion warmed her considerably, and she turned to find him where she had left him, dripping slightly on the carpet before the fire. She sat back on the bed, scooting back until she lay in the center, eyes locked with the odd man her husband had sent to pleasure her.

The spinner watched her, his face in shadows with the fire at his back. “Are you certain, My Queen?” he asked once more.

It was alarming actually, how certain she was. Her sex was already wet from her daydream, and from no small part in watching the two women responsible for her fantasies bent over the naked form of the peasant whose low voice and soft touch had intrigued her despite herself. Belle nodded, reaching a hand out for him to join her. He moved quicker than she anticipated. The bath seemed to have soothed his leg, and he carefully but quickly joined her on the large bed. It was darker here, away from the fire, but he moved to sit beside her, careful not to touch her.

Belle had no such qualms. She reached out to trace his collarbone, dipping down to follow the lines of his ribs until her curiosity won and she tapped one small dusky nipple. It tightened into a bud, and her own nipple pebbled in response. She wanted him to touch her, Belle realized. She wanted him to take those elegant fingers and trace her own bones until she melted away from the fire burning inside her. She didn’t dare articulate it though, she was already asking too much from him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice husky. Belle did not trust her own voice. Who knew what it would say at this moment? So, she nodded. “You’ll have to...um...scoot up,” he said. He pointed towards the headboard where the pillows were piled.

Belle hurried to accommodate him, turning and crawling into place. When she collapsed back into the pillows, she found the spinner’s eyes huge and dark on her, and an answering hunger bloomed in her. The uncertainty, the awkwardness and the embarrassment carried away as if the tide had come.

Rumpelstiltskin gently touched her right leg, pushing it slightly to the right. Belle felt a sudden coolness as the air met her sex, but it was pleasant and refreshing in the heat of the room. He lay down on his stomach, his legs stretched behind him and Belle’s eyes focused on his backside. He was too thin for it to be appealing, but Belle could not help watching as it flexed as he shimmed into place and it was so much easier to trace his spine than to watch his face. His breath tickled the inside of her thigh, and Belle squirmed slightly. A hand rested lightly on her hip, so different from the bruising grip Gaston used to hold her place when he used her. Belle’s eyes squeezed shut, trying to banish her husband from this moment.

The hand disappeared. “My Queen, we don’t- I didn’t mean-”

His voice was forgiving, and apologetic all at the same time. Belle gave a watery chuckle, and stared up at the canopy over her. She could not look at him, she was too raw, too on edge with desire and self disgust and a million other things that felt like stones on her chest. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to herself. To him.

There was silence for a heartbeat. “My Queen,” Rumpelstiltskin said, "I am not a young man, or a whole man or a handsome man...and I wish I was all of those things for you…but if could let me try to give you some happiness..... just let me try.”

Belle shook her head, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. “I’m scared,” she admitted to him and to herself.

“Of me?” he asked, and the look on his face was so startled that Belle’s heart clenched in her chest.

“No,” she assured him. “Not you but-” before Belle could continue, he bent his head to her sex.

His nose brushed against her, and Belle’s legs clamped shut upon his head as his tongue tasted her flesh. A noise of surprise vibrated against her skin, and then his hands slowly pried her legs apart, uncertain brown eyes staring up at her. Her pale skin barely kissed by the sun against the darker weather stained skin of the spinner’s face was an intriguing contrast. More so was the fact that his lips were inches away from her most intimate self. Belle’s hips jerked upright on their own accord, pressing against him wantonly. “Oh,” she panted, hands fisting the blankets beneath her. “Oh!”

With this note of approval, his eyes hooded as he returned to his discovery. His fingers tightened on her legs, but it was a pleasant pressure. Belle let her head fall back on the pillow, too overcome from his touch to handle the sight of a man laying between her thighs. With her eyes closed, every other sensation instantly heightened. Her breath was ragged and shaky in her own ears, but there was little noise from between her thighs. Unlike her handmaidens, the spinner was quiet in his ministrations but she could attest no less thorough.

His mouth was hot, but gentle. He traced the lines of her body carefully, making small noises of contentment whenever she twitched or spasmed. Belle found those noises so delightful that she started to make her own satisfied noises, enjoying the way he would press harder or swirl faster at her sounds.

The entire experience was ethereal, Belle thought hazily, her stomach clenching as Rumpelstiltskin changed the angle of his approach. He lapped at her, long languid strokes, before he stopped to fasten his lips around the top of her sex.

Belle’s entire body went rigid at the sensation, jerking as a moan was ripped from her mouth. Rumpelstiltskin,startled, released her with a soft pop as she scooted out of his grip. Belle, panting heavily, stared down at him from where she had sat upright, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. “Do that again,” she whispered and he nodded urgently. He moved closer, letting her lean backwards against the pillows as he moved his arms underneath her legs. His arms tensed around her, and when he was certain she was ready, he bent his head back to the same spot.

Belle’s entire body jerked again, but he was ready this time. His arms tightened as he suckled the tender spot, eliciting a stream of incoherent noises. “Rumple….Rumple...Rumpelstiltskin,” she finally managed. “Don’t...don’t…stop.”

“Stop?” he said, head coming up sharply. His eyes were black, and his hair, already wet from the bath was curling in the heat. His chin was shiny with sweat and - Belle flushed- her pleasure.

“No,” she said, swallowing. “I couldn’t...I liked that a lot.”

“Oh,” he said, smiling. “You meant keep going?”

Belle nodded rapidly, and he laughed. It was a low sweet noise, utterly charming. Belle reached out one hand to push the hair from his face, and his eyes closed at the soft touch. For a moment, they laid there, entwined as Belle’s body burned like a candle someone had forgotten to put out. “I liked how you said my name,” he admitted after a moment.

“Rumple?” Belle repeated, smiling as a blush dusted over his cheeks. He nodded. “Well...I liked the feel of your stubble against my thighs,” Belle admitted to him. “It’s scratchy.”

He smiled, and bent his head until he could rub it across the top of her left hip. Belle giggled, pushing him away, only to roll over, face first in the pillow as the spinner knelt beside her. She stilled as his hands came up to her hips, the ghost of Gaston returning, but before she could say a word, a soft kiss on her sex stilled her. Another followed, and then another, and Belle raised her hips in the air, spreading her legs in the hope that he might understand….

She wanted him. She wanted him inside of her like a man came to his wife, and she knew it was wanton but she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped he understood.

Instead of his cock, he pressed his open mouth to her spread legs, his fingers gripping her backside as he opened her up to him. Belle groaned as she elbows gave out, face pressed into the pillows as his teeth nipped her swollen flesh, misunderstanding her intentions and delivering something Belle had never realized she could have needed.

His tongue slipped inside of her, and judging by how quickly it disappeared, it was purely by accident but Belle, hazy with lust, twisted her head to speak. “Yes,” she panted, pushing against him, as he pulled back to breath. “Do that again!”

He looked at her in confusion and she huffed, overheated and dizzy with desire. He nodded, and Belle let her eyes drift close in anticipation. A gentle pressure between her legs, and then his fingers parted her to his gaze, and his tongue returned to lap at her core. A moment passed, Belle barely breathing as he tasted every inch of her exposed to him.

She pressed her face into the pillows, hips wriggling as she fought to stay afloat on the waves of desire that were threatening to drown her. Rumple's stubble was maddening against the softness of her curls, the harsh contrast between his soft tongue and lips and his rough day old beard something she had never even imagined. Belle let out another muffled moan, enjoying the way he echoed the moan, his mouth vibrating against her, heightening the entire sensation.

Belle’s toes flexed, her calves tight underneath her. There was a stillness in her that she had never experienced before, as if she was waiting for something just beyond her reach. The soft, sometimes uncertain touch of the spinner’s hands on her back made her want to sob.

He pulled away from her, and Belle, unable to help herself, made a noise of protest, her hand going in between her own legs as if to recapture the fleeting feeling. Her spinner was breathing raggedly, eyes blown black with desire in the shadows of the canopy. Their eyes met, held and burned.

His lips and chin glowed in the faint light, and Belle’s fingers, tangled in her curls, stroked herself as she gazed at him. His eyes plummeted back down to the small motion, a noise wrenched from deep in his throat. “Please,” Belle whispered softly. Please was the least she could say, she would beg him on her hands and knees at this moment, her crown be damned.

There was no need. He reached out to pull her towards him, and for a moment, a shining crystal moment, Belle thought he meant to kiss her. She went willingly, eyes closing in anticipation, and not some small apprehension at how much she wanted it. He did not kiss her though. Instead, Belle found herself straddling his narrow chest as he laid backwards, hands guiding her hips forward. Understanding at once, she scooted upwards on her knees, until she hovered over his face.

His fingers traced the outside of her legs, as he gazed up at her from where he lay between her hips. “My queen,” he whispered up to her, breath stirring the wet curls at the apex of her thighs. “You are magnificent.”

Belle opened her mouth to deny it, to explain to him it was not she, but he who was worthy of praise but he pulled her down to his lips, and the words died on her tongue. This angle was pure sensation, the trembling of her thighs to keep her upright, the feel of his nose pressing against that certain spot, the one that made her see stars, and the feeling of his tongue lapping at her, pulling noises from her throat like a cat in heat.

Unable to help herself, Belle ground against him, enjoying the way his stubble scraped her skin raw, the way his fingers tightened to indicate his own desire, and the increased tempo of his tongue as it swirled and flicked at her inside and out. He hummed a note of approval as Belle’s hands dropped down to grip at his hands. He continued to hold her up, but his fingers entwined with hers as he licked faster, tracing figure eights in her skin. Belle’s head fell backwards as the exertion became too much, knees shaking with the effort to keep upright when his lips fastened on one particular spot and suckled.

Belle keened. There was an explosion of sensations in her stomach, racing up her spine and robbing her of coherent thought as she pressed harder, seeking her release.

Rumple's hands held her steady, his mouth working as her orgasm ripped through her, heightening and prolonging the sensation, as if he too was loathe for it to be over. Belle collapsed forwards, muscles shaky and weak as she tried to suck air into her lungs. A gentle hand helped turned her, and she twisted onto her back, staring up at the canopy overhead as her sticky, sweaty skin pressed against the man who had given her first true orgasm.

It had been everything she had thought it would be and more, she thought hazily to herself, eyes closed as her heartbeat thudded violently in her chest. How did every husband not know this secret, she wondered, this amazing gift of sensation and pleasure?

It was only when her skin started to cool, that she noticed Rumple was silent beside her. She rolled over, and found he was staring straight ahead at the canopy, jaw clenched. Without thinking, her eyes went to his sex, and found it flaccid. There was no evidence of his own release, and Belle flushed. “I’m...sorry,” she said, her voice shaking.

Large brown eyes turned to her, confused and incredulous. “You’re sorry?” he repeated, voice soft. “My Queen, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“You…” Belle indicated in the general direction of his cock, looking away as she swallowed roughly. “You didn’t enjoy that.”

He leaned up on his elbows, and one hand came out to push the hair from her face. Belle started, and he paused, but after a moment, when he realized she would not pull away, he tucked the strands behind her ear. “My Queen,” he said, very seriously.” I can say with utter conviction, that I have never and will never enjoy myself as much as I did here with you tonight.”

Belle’s heart twisted in her chest. “But…”

He smiled grimly up at her. “Forgive me,” he said, looking away as his hand fell away from her. “My thoughts are heavy.”

Belle scooted closer to him, and though he stared at her in surprise, he did not move away from her. She marveled at the feel of his body against her’s, enjoying the way skin radiated heat. She wanted to touch him, trace the lines of his bones and feel him harden under her touch, but she was too shy, and he looked as if he would break into pieces if she startled him. “That was wonderful,” she told him, eyes locked with his. A faint smile appeared on his face, and Belle’s heart leaped as he gazed back at her with equal wonder. “Is it...is it always like that?”

He shrugged slightly, cheeks pinking. “Not always,” he admitted. “It...it depends on the people.”

“Oh,” Belle murmured, not entirely certain she understood but not wanting to press him.

He sighed, and lowered down onto his back. Belle followed suit, and his arms slowly slid around her shoulders, hesitantly. She snuggled closer into it, twisting so her cheek could rest on his chest. She stared up at his features, tracing the harsh lines and deep sunken cheeks. His hand splayed on her back, twisting the ends of her curls like thread.

“My Queen,” he sighed, eyes closing.

“My spinner,” Belle murmured back, wanting nothing more in that moment then to lean up to find out what his lips tasted like.

“Might we sleep for a moment?” he asked drowsily, and Belle found that she was indeed very tired. She yawned, turning her cheek to press it against his chest. His heartbeat was soft but steady, and i lulled her to sleep as his fingers stroked her hair.

When she awoke, she found the spinner still beneath her, his face slack in repose. With the sun’s rising, she could see the lines around his eyes, the way age had marked him with silver in his hair but it did not lessen him. Her dreams had been pleasant, visions of love and happiness, a life she had thought lost to her. Belle let herself smile, a hope for the future starting to burn in her mind. 

She shifted, and his grip tightened slightly in sleep. A faint noise from the hall grew louder, the soft sound of approaching footsteps must have awakened her. Slipping from his grip, Belle left the bed, to grab her nightgown where it lay pooled on the floor. She drew the curtains on her bed closed, and turned just as Dorothy and Ruby opened the door, both hiding yawns behind their hands.

“Your Royal Highness!” Ruby exclaimed, stopping short at the sight of her up and about so early.

“Good morning,” Belle yawned, stretching slightly. Both women looked at her in wonder, eyes darting to the bed behind her. “Is breakfast ready yet?”

“I’ll go fetch it,” Dorothy said at once. Her eyes locked with Ruby’s before she disappeared back out the door.

“Is everything alright?” Ruby asked quietly, moving slightly closer.

Belle lay a hand on the maid’s arms, and squeezed slightly to reassure her. “What is the news from the kitchens?” she asked, knowing full well the castle would be abuzz about the mystery peasant who had spent the night in the queen’s chambers.

“Worried about you, Your Royal Highness,” Ruby admitted, eyes on the bed behind Belle. “Is everything…”

“Everything is fine,” Belle assured her, smiling at the memory of last night. “Is the King awake?”

Ruby shook her head. “His valet is with him,” she said tightly.

Belle nodded, understanding at once. “Good,” she said. “I’m not to be disturbed for the remainder of the morning.”

A look of surprise crossed Ruby’s features, but she masked it quickly. “What of breakfast?” she asked politely.

“Leave it outside the door,” Belle said, a wolfish smile on her face.

Ruby smiled back, and for a moment, they grinned foolishly at each other, like two young girls might. Then, as if remembering herself, Ruby nodded, and turned to hurry towards the door. Before she slipped out though, she turned and inhaled sharply. “I’m glad for you,” she said quietly. “You deserve every happiness,” and with that, she turned and shut the door.

A noise from the bed alerted Belle that Rumple was awake. He peered out from the curtains, bleary eyed. “Belle?”

A warmth blossomed in her chest as she returned to him. His voice was sleep addled and rough, but his hands reached to pull her back into bed without hesitation. Belle went willingly to him, muffling a yawn as they disappeared back behind the curtains of their own private world. His fingers stroked her back as she lay back down with him, his chest her pillow as he leaned back into the down mattress. “Rumple,” Belle said, fingers ghosting over his rib cage as she memorized the spots that made his breath hitch. “Would you like to live in the castle?” He did not respond, and Belle did not dare to look at his face. “We'd bring your son here,” she continued softly, painting a picture of the future she had dreamed of the night before. “I’ll see to it he has anything he could desire.”

“You...you would do that? For me?”

Belle raised up on an elbow, smiling down at him. She lifted a hand to push the curls from his forehead, fighting back the fear of what would happen if he said no. “I wouldn’t keep you here against your will,” she told him. “Only if you would like to….stay here...with me. For as long as you want.”

He gazed up at her, mind working quickly as he thought over her offer. Belle did not dare look away from him, having never wanted anything as desperately as she did in this moment. “The King?” he said finally, a cloud passing over his face.

Belle wanted nothing more in that moment than to banish her husband from her head but knew the issue had to be addressed. “Gaston will be more than happy to find me out of his bed,” Belle said. “He has his own lovers to keep him company, he will not deny me mine if he wishes to keep his title.”

Rumple’s brow furrowed. “I thought…is he not the King?”

“Oh,” Belle smiled down at him. “Of course he is, but only because he married a queen. The throne is mine, I just needed a husband to give me an heir.” Rumple blinked up at her. Belle giggled at the look of shock on his face. “So....would you?” she asked, leaning down slightly closer, heart picking up speed.

“Would I what?” he asked, eyes searching her face.

“Give me an heir?”

He did not answer her, but his fingers twisted in the hair at the back of her head, as he pulled her down for a long, lingering kiss.

The breakfast tray remained outside the Queen’s chambers, untouched for hours. Only the Queen’s handmaidens knew why the Queen stayed sequestered in her rooms, but both stayed quiet. It was not their secret to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> So, in case you're wondering, Bae moves into the castle and becomes a knight/bard and falls in love with nearby princess Emma. Rumple becomes King of Avonlea after King Gaston disappears on a hunting trip never to be seen or heard from again. Belle has a baby girl, and they all live happily ever after. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this!


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